The Boy in Her Nightmares
by reader-chic-2
Summary: Clary Fray was an innocent girl in an innocent world. She should have lost her innocence when she was twelve, but her mind refused. She can't help but wonder who the boy with golden hair and black-out eyes is that watches her sleep at night. So one day, she asks. Very AU, and mostly AH. Two shot!
1. Chapter 1

**The Boy in Her Nightmares**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.**

* * *

The eyes are the windows to the soul.

But they were also what was missing.

Sometimes, Clary thought she could handle it. In a way, it was her escape. Few would call it a gift, but to her mother, that was what it was. She had a gift. She had two, in fact, but they were opposites. One was her saving grace and the other was her personal hell.

Yet, there were times she looked forward to meeting him, if only to try and get his eyes right. The boy could be beautiful. He was beautiful, but in a way that sent a cold autumn wind down her body.

Clary situated herself in her bed for the second time that night. She eyed the now closed door before glancing to the window. The old dark wood had murky glass between its frames, but it was swinging wildly in the wind.

She stared down at her body. The lace was itchy. It was always itchy. With a heavy sigh, she exchanged her outfit for the large oversized t-shirt. It was the boy's shirt. In the beginning when it started, she stopped wearing it because she assumed he was angry she wore it. But as the years passed, he continued visiting. Once, he even seemed saddened to see the shirt discarded on her dresser. Since then, it was all she wore. The boy was still sad, but at least it wasn't her fault.

Clary ran her hands over her red hair, curled her legs to her chest as she lied on her side, and closed her emerald eyes.

She never knew how long it took for him to arrive. All of a sudden, Clay _felt_ something. Something was watching her sleep. Something was so close she could sense its energy in the air around her. Something was here.

A hand was on her leg. She jolted awake, gasping for breath as she shot upright. Her eyes didn't have to search the room far. He always sat in the same spot.

Some would say his golden hair and pale skin made him a vision of light, of peace, of sanctuary. Once Clary drew him for her mother and doctors did they stop saying such a thing. When you saw him, you didn't forget him. The black clothing combined with a black glowing aura around his entire body. Beautiful, he was, but it was a dark beautiful. Terrifying in its own light. He was the kind of beautiful you associate with watching a bomb explode or a plane crash into a tall tower.

After so many visits, Clary shouldn't have been frightened of him. He never did anything. If he spoke, she couldn't ever remember his voice after. When she looked into his eyes, they were black. The color wasn't black. His eyes were missing, gone, stolen.

"Who stole your sight?" Clary whispered, reaching out to touch his face. He blinked despite not needing to moisten his non-existing eyes. He didn't answer.

The window slammed shut, causing Clary to jump. A voice rang out through the house. "Shut that damn window, Clarissa!"

Clary gasped. She didn't know her father was still awake. Before she could think, she was on her feet racing for the window. He couldn't come back into her room. If her father caught her with the boy, Clary didn't know if she could cope.

But the boy grabbed her hand. It was a light gesture, one she wasn't used to. His hands ghosted over her wrist like a feather. "You'll lock me in."

Clary stood in front of him curiously. "Where do you go when you leave?" Her ears perked, ready to memorize his voice. Though it was rarely used, Clary knew from previous times that, just like his eyes, she would probably never remember. The boy didn't answer, and that angered Clary. Her hands clenched into tiny fists. "What's your name?" Again, she was met with silence. The boy tilted his head as he watched her. His golden curls fell across his face, but he didn't notice. There were dark rings under his eyes that reminded her of the ones that made her own eyes seem sunken in.

"Everyone hates it when I call you 'the boy.'" Clary admitted. "If you don't tell me your name, I'm shutting the window."

He moved his head to the other side, studying Clary's deviant stance. "Jace Wayland."

Clary's heart sunk. It was such a perfect name. The boy looked like a Jace Wayland. He was grungy and rugged yet had some respect and class. She realized she now had the advantage here. "Why did you kill yourself?"

Jace frowned. He didn't answer. Clary explained. "It was when we lived in the alley. I was twelve. You looked much younger, but I remember you. When you came crashing down toward me, your eyes were full of such energy, such fight. I didn't understand why eyes so beautiful would want to die. Maybe that's why I can't remember what your eyes look like. I already saw them and now I don't get the pleasure of a second time."

Jace Wayland's scowl grew. "Are you sure I jumped?"

It was Clary's turn to grow confused. Now that the conversation was flowing, she no longer wanted the boy to disappear. This was the most she'd spoken to a person in days. She didn't care if he was the ghost that haunted her. It came to her benefit.

"Don't you remember dying?"

"I only remember you." Jace said. Clary sat beside him carefully. He was much taller than her, much older. She knew what older boys liked to do.

"Why don't you speak to me?" Clary asked. The wind battered her cheeks red.

"You've never needed to talk before. You needed something else."

Clary crossed her arms over her chest. "What do I need?"

Jace grew a crooked smirk. It was alarming since she couldn't see his eyes. They were blackened blurs, but the smile was anything than what she had expected. This was the smile of a glowingly handsome young man, not one of a dangerous, haunting ghost.

"A distraction."

Clary began to say something when suddenly her window started banging loudly. She jumped in alarm and ran for the window. When she turned back to the bed, Jace Wayland had disappeared.

For four years, instead of sleeping, Clary had been visited by the boy. And in one night, she'd both learned his name and felt the first pang of sadness as his sudden disappearance pulled at her heart. It was the first time she had wanted him to stay, to not leave her alone again.

He'd left early, though. And Clary didn't sleep. So for an hour, she stared at the window waiting for him to enter. He never did. Then, her brain started replaying scenes of the earlier events of the night.

And suddenly, his unexpected absence hurt Clary.

. . .

Clary stared out the window. Half of her expected to see the boy - Jace - climbing through the open window to sit on her bed. A giggle burst past her lips, causing her mother to look over at her in scorn. Clary didn't care. It was a funny thought. As if Jace Wayland the ghost would appear in broad daylight. It was a silly thought, one that deserved laughter.

"He spoke to me," Clary whispered as she sat in her seat. Jocelyn Morgenstern resembled Clary, more or less. She had harder lines, a more mature body. Her scowl was, therefore, more prominent, more noticeable.

"Who?"

"The boy." Clary said, eyeing the window again. "I know his name, now."

Jocelyn grimaced. She tried to not let Clary see it by covering it up with a slighted smile. "That's...wonderful dear."

Clary sighed. Pouting, she crossed her arms. "You used to call it a gift. Seeing the dead and all."

Jocelyn ran a hand distractedly through her hair. "That was when you were twelve and I though you had PTSD. Now it's simply...immature if a girl your age."

The words brushed off Clary as if her bouncy curls of red were her shields of blood-coated iron. She looked back to the window. "It's Jace Wayland..."

"Clarissa Morgenstern? Dr. Bane is ready for you now." A nurse by the front desk said as she peeked her head outside of the door. Clary smiled in delight and jumped to her feet. Jocelyn rose slowly, tiredly.

"I have to make your father lunch. I'll be back in an hour. You'll be fine, right?"

Clary nodded out of habit. A sinking feeling formed in her gut. Jocelyn always asked that question. She asked it before school. She asked it before doctor sessions. She asked it when she left to go to the store. She asked it before bed. Clary always said yes. She wondered what would happen if she didn't lie every time. She wondered if Jocelyn would even notice a deviation, let alone do something about it.

Clary liked Dr. Bane. He let her call him Magnus and his sofa was the nicest she'd lied in. He was waiting for he in his black chair without a smile on his face. She also liked that about him. He didn't give her a passive aggressive or neutral smile. He just was him. And she just was her. It worked.

"How's my favorite patient?" Magnus said invitingly. His catlike eyes had a hint of sparkles on the edges. As Clary kicked her feet up on the couch, she focused on the glitter.

"Me? I'm great! My new friend isn't doing so well, though," Clary said. Magnus' eyebrows rose expectantly. "Yes, I have friends."

"I believe that's a total of two, and you met Simon through my buddy system." Magnus reminded her in that uppity tone. She knew he meant well, and it didn't insult her when he said that. Clary rolled her eyes and laughed. Simon was the one friend she had. He came to Magnus to deal with his anxiety. While he had trouble making friends, Clary had trouble keeping them. They worked well together, but they didn't get to visit each other often. They went to different school. His high school had much more freedom with meaner teachers. Clary's teachers were the nicest, but she had to do exactly what they said and nothing less. The good thing was that she hardly had to do much learning with them.

"His name is Jace Wayland," Clary grinned. Her eyes roamed the office, searching each wall. With a sigh, she looked back to Magnus.

"What's wrong?"

"There are no windows. He won't be showing up," Clary said. She lied on her side as she faced Magnus. "I'm sure he'd love to meet you. He's sad a lot. You could help him."

Magnus crossed his leg over his other and tapped his pen in thought. "Clary, think hard for me. Do you remember the boy you saw fall from the building a couple years ago?"

Clary felt cold run through her. Images from that night flashed through her eyes. It was before her father found Jocelyn and Clary. It was before they had a home. The streets were always scary, but that night it was raining hard. Clary had been shivering there entire night. Then came the body. This time, she remembered it slightly differently than she had last night. There was a loud screaming echoing off the buildings. His eyes were so alight with light, but it was a scared light. He was angry and surprised.

"It wasn't a couple of years ago," she muttered. Her fingers found the hem of her shirt. They began twisting it. "It was three years and ten months ago."

Magnus nodded. "Did you ever hear his name?"

Clary paused, thinking. It was the one question she'd never heard the answer to. Not long after her mother and she gave their statements to the police, they ran. They ran for days, all the way out of the city. The next time Clary saw the news was months later when the media had forgotten her flying angel. "No. But I know it now. It was Jace Wayland. I told you I could see ghosts. I'm not imagining this."

Magnus jotted down notes in his book. "What else did you and Jace talk about last night?"

Clary smiled again. She liked talking about her new friend. "Not much. He had to go. The wind was waking my father." Clary shuddered at his name. Magnus picked up on it. He always did.

"Why don't you ever talk about your father?" he asked, leaning forward with interest. Clary leaned further back into the sofa, if it were possible.

"Don't you want to hear more about my friend?" He shook his head. Her smile dropped, and she shrugged. "What do you want to know?"

Magnus' pen tapped undyingly on his clipboard. "What did your father have to say about your new friend?"

Clary flinched at the mere idea of telling her father about Jace. She couldn't even imagine telling him that she could talk to the dead. His sharp, painful laughter already echoed in her ears. Her hands flung to cover her ears and she shook her head. The sounds didn't stop, but she kept it up.

"Clary?" Magnus' voice miffed from the sharp laughter. She lowered her hands slowly, unsure if his scorn and mockery and amusement at her curse would still be around. It had died out, thankfully. "Why did you do that?"

Clary sat up. She hugged at her chest and shook her head. "What do your father and you do for fun?"

Another memory flashed before her eyes, one from the very recent night. Clary closed her eyes tightly for a second longer than normal. She stared at Magnus' feet, not even trying to answer his question. Another one came, but she had to force herself not to listen. Clary didn't want to relive another moment she had shared with her father.

Not long after staring at her legs, the timer dinged. Her head shot up. "That was not fun," she sighed as the door opened. Jocelyn was standing there as she spoke on the phone. Her hand motioned for Clary to move it along. "Bye Mr. Bane."

"Clary-," he protested, but she was already out the door.

. . .

The door quivered as it shut. Clary wondered how he didn't worry about waking up her mother. It was so loud. Everything was so loud.

The wind was howling again tonight. She enjoyed the fresh breeze that came into her room. She tucked her legs under the cover and waited patiently for her dark angel to visit. When her eyes closed, it wasn't for long.

Jace didn't wake her. Clary was ready for him, though. The moment she felt the slightest shift of her bed, her eyes popped open. Jace was staring at her, watching. His eyes seemed to blur as she tried to read them. She decided they weren't black holes, but they just were a forgotten part of his memory.

"Hello."

Her voice was crisp and clear surrounded by such silence. Jace didn't respond with a nice greeting back, though.

"Why did you assume I killed myself?"

Clary frowned. Again, she remembered what she saw, but with Jace around, it wasn't as scary. It was like seeing it in a movie. "You looked like you were flying. My mom tried to fly once. It didn't work like yours did, though."

Jace let a breath of air escape his mouth. His elbows rested on his knees. Clary sat beside him as well. Her shirt rose over her knees and exposed a little bit of her black underwear. Jace looked at her. He grinned. "I can see your panties, Miss Clary," he said in a way that rhymed. Clary was surprised. Nobody had ever made her laugh when they commented on her clothing.

She giggled and let her legs fall over the side of the bed. "You keep getting older."

"So do you," Jace said in a light way that almost sounded like conversation. Clary jumped at that idea.

"Do you go to school?"

Jace shook his head. "I watch people. You mostly. Your life provides the most entertainment," Jace cringed as he said it, like that statement was a bit too harsh. Clary blinked. She didn't realize she had such a fun life. She felt honored.

"Why can't I see you? Why can't my friends see you?"

Jace frowned. "Friend." Everyone had to point that out. "They aren't special like you."

It sent her mind spinning. With bright eyes, she looked at him. "Do you want to kiss me?"

The question came from nowhere. The times she'd been 'kissed' were not happy memories. In fact, she had never gotten to ask a boy if he wanted to kiss her before. It was a nice turn of events. Jace ran a hand through Clary's red curls, untangling the knots as he went.

"You deserve better," was his response. He looked at the bed. "You should sleep. You never do."

She shrugged. "That's okay. I like being with you more." Jace's smile was tight, forced.

"I'll stay here until morning."

"Promise?"

"I always do," Jace reminded her. Clary's lip jutted out. He sighed and pushed her gently back to the pillows. "Promise."

He kept his word.

. . .

Clary stared out at the cars rushing past. They always went to fast in the school zone. It was probably because at her school, nobody was allowed outside the gates until after the bell rang. But Clary was one of the smartest students the junior class. She got let out five minutes early to watch the cars zoom past. It was for an art project. Dr. Bane got her started on drawing, and now she did it for her school year project.

The cars were a multitude of colors, all eventually blurring into one. A black, long car pulled up to the curve a minute before the young bell rang. As kids rushed into the gate yard parents walked to the entrance. There, a counselor checked off the kid and parent's last name to ensure the right kid went with the right adult.

A young girl around Clary's age got out of the car. She walked through the gate, as some would do if they arrived early, and sat beside Clary on the step. Clary looked at her.

"You're very pretty," she complimented the girl. Her dark black hair nearly reached her waist, and her eye make up made Clary want to stare with both awe and envy. The girl snorted.

"Thanks." She looked at Clary. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Shouldn't you?"

The girl shrugged. "My brother should get to see a happy face pick him up every once and a while."

Clary grinned. "You're right." She paused. "My name's Clary Morgenstern."

The girl's head whipped around faster than the cars whooshing by. Her dark, never ending eyes grew wide. "As in...Jonathan's brother?"

The way she said that sentence made Clary think she had done something to scare the girl. "That's me."

Isabelle looked her over once. Her eyes grew glossier as her hand went to her mouth. "You don't look...crazy." Clary frowned. Isabelle stammered, "I mean, you look like you should go to my school."

She shrugged, forgetting about her previous sentence. "My friend Simon goes to a regular school _and_ he sees the same doctor as me. It's so unfair."

Isabelle nodded distantly, as if she'd just seen a ghost. She cleared her throat. The bell rang, and kids started rushing past the two girls only to be stopped by the gates. Ten minutes later and the upper school would let out. Then they'd really be in trouble. "Um...what's your friend's name?"

"Jace Wayland," she blurted out before thinking. Clary laughed. "Sorry. You meant Simon."

Isabelle's face had lost all color. "I did, but not anymore. Did you say 'Jace Wayland?' As in the kid who threw himself off a building four years ago?"

Clary huffed. She rolled her eyes. "That's what I said too! But Jace said he didn't kill himself. Boys."

Isabelle's breathing picked up. "What do you mean 'he says?'"

"He visits me at night. After four years of stealing my sleep, he's finally given me some conversation in return. He's so nice," Clary giggled. Isabelle's shoulder dropped. The spray of hope across her eyes left slowly, almost as if it didn't want to leave.

"Oh."

A boy around the age of eleven walked past the girls, but he turned around quickly. There was such a glum expression in his eyes. Clary knew eyes. She was an expert on them, she'd say. And his eyes were...missing. Not actually like Jace's were. This boy's eyes were just not whole.

A flicker of light lit them up momentarily at the sight of Isabelle. "Max!" Isabelle exclaimed excitedly with a little too much enthusiasm. Max didn't seem to mind. He smiled, and the smile hurt Clary's heart with hope pure it was.

"Izzy, I missed you!" He threw his arms around her waist, white-bandaged wrists crossing. Clary frowned. The bandages went all the way around his wrists for full coverage.

Isabelle peered down at Clary. Her eyes softened and she sat back down, pulled Max on her lap in the process. He didn't mind. "Clary, this is my little brother Max. Max knew Jace very well."

At the mention of Jace's name, Max's smile fell. His eyes turned back to the brooding storm that no child his age should ever hold. Clary didn't pick up on everything, but she understood when a person was hurting. Max was hurting. She decided not to throw her friendship with Jace in his face.

"Hello, Max!" Clary smiled. He nodded and looked at the cars going by at a much slower pace now that the yellow lights flashed. "How do you know Jace?"

Isabelle shifted. "Jace saved Max from bullies when we were younger. He...looked up to him."

The words came out of Iz's mouth with a bitter taste. Max didn't flinch. Clary pursed her lips. "I don't think he killed himself."

Max looked up. "I _know_ he didn't." There was an angry defiant edge to his voice. His eyes hardened into stones, daring Clary to challenge him. Even Isabelle kept quiet. She looked to Clary and made the crazy sign by her own temple. Clary grimaced.

She didn't think he was crazy. She thought he was hiding something.

. . .

Clary was waiting for Jace that night. She went to bed and woke herself up, but he wasn't there. It took him a few minutes. In those minutes, she stared at her feet as they dangled over the bedside. Her mind drifted to Max. His smile made her smile and his eyes made her cry.

A hand on her arm made her emerald eyes shift up. It wasn't Jace, though. This time, it was her mother. The door was open, and Jocelyn had snuck in. Clary's eyes went wide and she scrambled to the back of her bed. If her mother were here, would Jace abandon her?

"Hello," Clary said cautiously.

Jocelyn's face seemed very frail in the moonlight. The wind had stopped howling for this full moon, but the air was just as eerie. "Magnus told me that your friend's name is Jace Wayland."

Clary nodded as she pulled the covers up to her chin. She didn't point out that Clary had told her mother this herself two days ago. Jocelyn sighed as she sat on the bed. Her eyes connected with the discarded lace outfit on the floor. "What's this?"

Clary lifted the blanket up to hide everything but her eyes. She didn't answer. Her heart was beating too fast.

"Clarissa, where did you get this?"

 _Shut up._

"Why do you have this?"

 _Shut up. Shut up_.

"Why is there blood on it?"

 _Shut up, shut up, shut up!_

Clary shook her head as tears pooled in her eyes. She thrust the blanket over her head in a hurry. Jocelyn continued pestering her with questions.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up," Clary mumbled. Memories bounced around wildly in her head. That outfit had been used. She couldn't say why. She never had been allowed. If she did, even to her mom, she'd be as dead as Jace Wayland. Even if she told Jace... But the memories and pain and feelings and power displays were so much to lie about, so much to cover up.

"Shut up!" Clary shouted! She buried herself under the covers fully, and Jocelyn didn't say another word. Her hand rested on Clary's back as she rocked back and forth under the covers, trying to keep from sobbing uncontrollably.

"Ah..." Jocelyn didn't know what to say. In the end, she bid the sniffling Clary goodnight, kissed her head through the covers, and left. The onslaught of memories didn't stop, though. They continued mercilessly for what felt like hours. It was all she could do to hold her head between her knees and keep the sobs from waking her father.

When she felt the bed sag the next time, it was Jace. She could nearly taste his presence. He pulled back the cover slowly. When she looked at him, his face was as grim as her heart felt. Without a second thought, Clary climbed to him. She rested her head on his lap and wrapped her arms around his torso, staring at him as the tears dried on her cheeks in salty lines. He stared back down at her, saddened by her sadness.

"Why won't you play with me in the day?" Clary asked.

Jace ran a hand over her hair. "I'm there. You just don't see me."

Clary smiled softly. "Next time, speak to me?"

"Okay."

. . .

Clary sprinted out of school to reach Isabelle and Max before they got in their limo. She wasn't let out early. "Isabelle! Max! Maxxie!"

Their heads turned in surprise. An amused smile was splayed across Max's face. Isabelle stopped in her place and met Clary halfway, a warm yet hesitant smile on her lips. Clary took a deep breath when she reached them and bent down to Max.

"Would you like to talk to Jace?"

Max's eyes turned into a scowl. "That's not funny."

Clary shook her head in earnest. "I'm serious, Maxie. I talk to him all the time. He even promised to come to me during the day today, but not here. It's too crowded here."

Max frowned. His eyes squinted. "Why did you call me Maxie?"

Clary shrugged. "Jace calls you that."

Isabelle hissed, "How did you know that?"

Clary looked up at her and scoffed, hands on her hips. "Because I talk to him?"

Max looked from Isabelle to Clary. His eyes were wavering. "What's she talking about, Iz?"

Isabelle growled, eyes sharpening into diamonds. "Nothing. She's crazy, Max. Let's go."

Clary jumped to her feet. "Take that back!"

Isabelle shoved Max behind her body. Her muscles pulled tight, she squared off to Clary. "What? That's you're clinically insane? Why do you think you're here, huh?"

Clary balled her fists. Her throat hurt, like somebody was strangling her. "You're crazy!"

Isabelle sneered. "Stay away from Max."

She grabbed Max's hand and yanked him away. Clary supposed it must have been raining because her cheeks were wet. She looked up, but no rain was falling. She looked back at Max and Isabelle. Max looked over his shoulder before stepping into his limo. Clary saw one thing: his eyes.

They were swirling with curiosity.

* * *

 **A/N: So this is a random drabble I wrote a while back. I finally got around to finishing it. There is a second part to this, which I will post if I can get 15 reviews. What to say you may ask? I want to hear everything! I want to know what you think about Jace. Real, ghost, or figment of her imagination? What do you think about Clary? What's up with her? What's her story? Where do you see this ending? Tell me! FIFTEEN reviews for the second part! Anyone curious?**

 **If you like this, I have more one-shots, but most are a bit more sexual than this. I also have some chapter stories completed and in progress about Clace.**

 **Don't forget to review/favorite/follow pls!**


	2. Chapter 2

**The Boy in Her Nightmares**

 **Disclaimer: I only own the plot, not the characters.**

* * *

"You're crying," Jace spoke when she got home. Clary sighed miserably and fell on the bed. Jace did the same. "You never cry."

"Isabelle didn't let him listen to me," Clary pouted. "He's so sad, Jace. He tried to kill himself because that's what he thinks you did!"

Jace tilted his head. "He tried to kill himself because of what he saw." Clary didn't know what to say. Jace sighed and looked at her. "He was there the night I was killed. He saw. I don't know why he didn't say what happened..."

Clary turned on her side. "Who killed you?"

Jace shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I'm getting my revenge on him."

Clary giggled. "Did you make him cry?"

Jace chuckled quietly, to humor Clary. He patted her thigh. "It hasn't happened just yet. But when I do, he just might cry."

He turned his eyes to Clary's. For the first time ever, the haze was gone. She saw the golden embers burning with a low fire, a growing rage. "Nobody likes getting their toys stolen."

Clary blinked slowly, memorizing his breathtakingly beautiful eyes. When she opened them again, the haze was back. An itching desire to see them tugged at her insides. She jutted her bottom lip out, pouting. She would do anything to see his eyes again.

"You want to help Maxie right?" Clary nodded eagerly. Jace glanced at the clock. He noted it was only thirty minutes before Clary's father would make his nightly visit. It had been painful to watch every night. He'd wanted to help her so badly, but he knew he was powerless against him. Anyone else, Jace could touch if he wanted to, but something about her father… His hand slipped right through him, ever time. Clary, on the other hand, had the potential to bring hell down upon him.

"Then let's go find him."

"Now?"

"Now," Jace grinned devilishly.

. . .

Sneaking into Max's fancy apartment wasn't hard. Jace told her when a person was watching and when they weren't. Getting him out was the harder part. Jace said they had to do this away from Maxie's family. He said they made him not believe. Clary pulled Max into a sitting position. He pushed against her, but she persisted. Jace was shouting in his ear, and Clary wondered how he was still asleep. Jace could be very loud.

Finally, he woke up.

"C-Clary?" he whispered. She smiled warmly at him and pressed a finger to her lips.

"I want to take you to meet Jace."

His eyes were wild as he looked around the room. Clary did the same. The energy in his body moved through her. For once, he was excited. For once, he resembled in the slightest what a kid his age should be like. Clary frowned when she noticed Jace had disappeared.

"It's okay. He told me where to go. It's where I first met him, too."

Clary remembered the first time she had ever seen him aside from when he fell off to the ground. It was in a room with a large mirror on one wall. Opposite to that, there was a brick wall with all kinds of toys on the ground. She sat at the table in the middle of the room and colored a picture. It was a very good one. People came in and talked to her. It was also the first time she met Magnus Bane. He was so nice.

Max looked unconvinced. He deliberated for a second before sighing, "I don't have anything to lose."

Clary held his hand. The two snuck all the way into the elevator before they met someone. It was the front desk attendant. He took one look at them and frowned. "Max, who's this pretty young girl?"

"Clary," Max continued walking. Clary waved to the guard. He nodded and continued eyeing her up and down.

"Where ya going?" he was chewing on nasty green gum that smelled like a mix of watermelon and beer. Clary coughed and tried not to show her disgust.

"To talk to Jace."

The guard's face fell. His hand reached toward the phone. Clary stopped at his desk, frowning. "What's the matter? We'll be right back."

His eyes focused below her face, which was very rude in her book. "What's in it for me if I keep my mouth shut, huh?" One of his eyes blinked. Max groaned.

"Fifty bucks," he said, lying it on the table. The guard sighed dejectedly and waved them on. Clary giggled, smiled, and waved goodbye. Max muttered a curse under his breath. "Next time you come get me, change out of your t-shirt. You're going to get raped."

Clary frowned. She didn't know the meaning of that word. She didn't know how he knew the meaning yet she didn't. Clary was much older than Max.

"Follow me," she said anyways. The walk wasn't very far. When they got to the place, there were many people buzzing in and out of the building. Most of them were in uniform, but plenty weren't. "Be quiet. Jace is holding one door open for us if we can just make it past these guards."

Clary and Max walked in the front door. The main floor of messy, paper-filled desks were all occupied except one. There were men in suits hastily writing things down on one side of the desk and distraught people on the other, talking up a storm. The two passed them all without a second glance. Some people had their kids with them. Some women didn't have much clothing on, but they were so sparkly and pretty Clary had to wave. None of them waved back.

When they reached the back of the building, she saw the open door and smiled. "In here," she said. Clary directed Max into the familiar room and shut the door behind them. They sat at the table, but the only light was from the moon shining through the window. "Jace!" Clary whisper-shouted. She tugged on her shirt. It reached the middle of her thighs, but just barely. The room was cold, and the shirt was thin. "Jace, Max wants to talk!"

The lights turned on, and she could see herself in the mirror. Smiling, she spun around to Max. He was watching her skeptically, like he'd rather be at home cutting his wrists. Clary rolled her eyes. "He'll be here."

They waited for a few more minutes, but Jace didn't show up. She was getting worried. Something could have happened to him. Clary bit her lip and tapped on the mirror. "Jace, are you there?"

She didn't know where the voice came from, but she heard it. "Tell him to close his eyes." It was Jace.

She smiled and nodded, sitting next to Max again. "Maxie, close your eyes. You can't see him as easily as me."

Max sighed heavily and closed his eyes. Jace appeared behind him. Clary smiled softly. He took a step closer to Max, and Clary's heart rate picked up. This was it. Somebody else would finally get to see Jace. Max would stop trying to kill himself. He'd be happy again. Things would be good for him.

Jace reached out with one hand and touched his shoulder. The other held Max's hand firmly. Clary bit her lip. Suddenly, Max had a sharp intake of breath. His eyes, though still closed, moved quickly behind his closed lids.

"Jace," he whispered with hope and fear bundled so tightly into that one word. Clary's heart pulsated in anticipation.

"Max my man," Jace chuckled. "Long time no see."

Max lunged forward and threw his arms around Jace. Jace's eyes closed as he held him tightly. When they reopened, they met with Clary's. She was surprised to see his golden orbs reopen again. They were brighter than they had ever been before, so bright it nearly blinded her. She smiled at him, as big as she could manage. He was so happy. She'd never seen Jace have an emotion other than calmly pessimistic. The glowing eyes refocused on Max again.

"I missed you," he mumbled into Jace's shoulder. Max pulled away. "I tried to follow you."

Jace sighed. Still holding his hand, they sat back down. "You know I didn't kill myself."

Max bit his lip. "I know. I wanted to see you one last time before you left for heaven."

Jace grimaced. Clary stared at Max's closed eyes. The utter elation as he saw Jace behind his eyes made everything worth it. "I don't know if I'm going there buddy. If I could have left here, I would have."

Max scoffed. "No you wouldn't have. You like her too much."

Jace smirked and fleetingly glanced at Clary. Clary smiled. "You're right, kid. I like her too much. I think I'll wait for a while, maybe until she joins me."

Max laughed. "You'll be waiting a long time."

Jace sighed dejectedly. He looked pained. "I wish that were the case. But I can tell when somebody is about to go. Everyone has something to do before they leave. Clary has two. You have many more. But Clary is going to do her two things tonight. You, Maxie, are going to do one tonight, too, but I have a feeling you aren't finished there. Maybe you'll become a lawyer or cop and bust more of these dirtbags."

Max frowned. "I'm confused."

"No you aren't."

Max bit his lip and sighed. He hung his head. They didn't say anything for a long time. Clary inched closer. Max finally mumbled, "It hurts to remember, Jace."

"I know, but I need you to do this for me. I need you to let me go."

Max pulled his head up. He looked in the direction of Clary, clearly not seeing her. He only saw Jace. "Take care of him, okay?"

Clary nodded. "Of course. He's my best friend."

Max sniffled and looked back at Jace. Two tears slipped out of his closed eyes. "I love you, Jace."

Jace pulled him in for another hug. "I love you, too, Max. I'm always with you, always watching. Don't think you're alone, you sick kid." Jace winked, and everyone chuckled lightly. They all could hear the goodbye coming. "Tell Iz to let loose a little. And tell Alec to man up and come out."

"What about my mom and dad?"

Jace nodded. "Thank them for taking care of me for so long.

Max sniffled again. "Okay."

"Are you ready?"

"Yes," Max nodded. "Bye, Jace. See you later."

"See you later."

Jace's hand slipped out of Max's. He removed his hand off his shoulder and stepped away. Jace and Max both looked at Clary. Jace squatted by Clary's side. "Do what I say, okay?"

Clary nodded. Max watched as her eyes shifted from over her shoulder to Max. "Is he still here?" Clary nodded slightly. She heard the door open behind her and began to look, but Jace rotated her back to focus on Max.

"Ask him about the night of my murder."

Clary grabbed Max's hand softly. "Do you remember what you and Jace were doing when he was murdered?"

Max glanced behind Clary.

"Answer me," Jace whispered.

"Answer me," Clary repeated, drawing his attention back to her. Max nodded.

He ran a hand through his curly hair and shifted his glasses. "We…we were home alone. Jace wanted to teach me how to do shotgun a beer." Max frowned, like he had trouble remembering something. "We, uh, we went to the store, but they didn't buy Jace's fake ID." Max thought for a moment and looked up futilely. "We were walking home, but…I can't remember."

Jace whispered into Clary's ear. "Do you remember how smelly that man was? The one who offered to buy you some beer?"

Max frowned. He closed his eyes and spoke in a hurried pace, as if scared to forget a single detail. "Yes. He smelled gross, like cooties and beer mixed with cigarettes, but he got us two cases. Jace didn't like him. He said he smiled too much at me. But I wanted to learn, so he said he'd pay the man back. But the man didn't ask for money. He wouldn't take it. When we left, he walked with us. Jace said to back off. His hair was so white. It was like snow. I wanted to touch it. He was going to let me, too, but Jace got angry. He growled and said if he ever laid a finger on me, he'd cut off his balls. After that, Jace and I ran home. Jace was so fast. The guard saw our beer, though. He was going to tell my parents!" Max gasped, and his eyes flew open.

"But he didn't, did he?" Clary repeated Jace's purrs into her ear. "You gave him something."

Max relaxed. He took a breath and nodded. "Yeah. He took one case and twenty dollars. Jace was so mad. I told him that nice white-haired man would buy us some more, but Jace said never to talk to that man again. So we went upstairs with our beer. Then, after a while…"

"Then somebody knocked on your door, didn't they? Jace said not to answer it, but you answered anyways."

Max nodded. He frowned. "I tried to do it, I really did, but it hurt my stomach. So Jace drank a couple of beers, and then a couple more until they were all gone. 'Had to destroy the evidence from Maryse,' he'd said." Max laughed mirthlessly. "When I opened the door…that smell." He groaned and waved at the air in front of him, like he could smell it again and was choking on it. Clary squeezed his hand. Then, something changed in him. He shook his head and his breathing grew shallow. "No. No, not again."

"What's going on? Jace is right here, Max. He's here. Help him."

Max's eyes flew open. Tears fell from them and he lunged for Clary, grasping her hands tightly, desperately. "Jace told the man to get out, but he was drunk. And the man shoved past him. He offered me to touch his hair. It was so soft. He asked if he could touch some of my hair…and that was when Jace hit him."

"He told you to run, right?" Clary said as adrenaline coursed through her veins. Jace's hand clamped tightly on her shoulder.

Max fell back in his seat. Tears fell from his eyes. "He told me to run. I tried calling the guard up here, but he didn't answer the buzzer. When I heard Jace yell, I knew I couldn't leave him. I snuck back inside. They were fighting like crazy. The man with white hair didn't notice me. Jace did. He looked scared, Clary…I'd never seen him scared before. I crawled under the couch to grab the bat we hid for break ins, but then I heard the glass shatter. The man was pushing Jace out the window, but he was holding onto the floor by his hands. He started stepping on his fingers, but he didn't let go. The white haired man pulled Jace up." Max paused. He closed his eyes and flung his head on the table. "He looked right at me. He was so scared. The man pulled out a canister in his pocket. It was spray paint. He sprayed Jace's eyes black. And then, he threw him out the window."

Max was silent after that. He was sobbing. Clary wanted to give him a hug, but his story made something in her mind snap.

He said he had white hair. She only knew of a few people who had white hair. He father and her brother, but her brother was friends with Isabelle, which meant he had met Max. Max would have recognized him. And he never smelled like cigarettes and beer and cooties.

Her father smelled like that.

She looked at Jace, a fire glowing bright green in her eyes. Once again, she saw the blackness covering his eyes. Only now did she realize it was the cloud of spray paint blocking his vision of the world beyond this one. He couldn't find his way out, not without her help.

She knew what he was speaking about before. She had two things to do. And she was going to do it.

Clary jumped to her feet. "Maxie, I will make sure Jace finds his way out."

She ran to the door, pushing past the officer standing in her way. Two men in uniforms and one in a suit were staring into the room through the part that should have been a mirror. Clary didn't have time to stop and question it. The men were surprised, but they didn't react fast enough to stop her. Some ran after her, but she was on a mission.

Jace and her ran through the cold night. They were far away from home, but it didn't stop Clary. She knew who killed Jace.

"What are you going to do?" Jace asked with a smug smirk, as if he already knew the answer. She didn't answer. Jace laughed. "Don't do it for me, Clary. Do it for yourself. You know what he does to you every night, right?"

Clary blinked back tears. "He comes into my room and touches me."

"And you don't like that, do you?"

She shook her head. "No. I hate it!"

Jace grinned. "He's evil."

"He kisses me and takes off my clothes a-and-,"

Jace ran a hand down her cheek and through her curls. His soothing touch helped her focus more on her task. "It's okay. It will be over soon, right?"

"Right."

She barged into the house. Her plan was fuzzy. She grabbed the nearest sharp object – a butcher knife – and burst into her room. "Valentine," Clary growled, seeing him waiting patiently on the bed for her.

The man didn't even register the knife in her hand.

Jace whispered the name of his killer. "Valentine."

"Where the fuck were you, bitch?" Valentine stood up. He shook Clary by the shoulders. Jace stood in front of her, looking around his arms.

"Do it."

"Kill him."

"You know you want to."

"Watch his blood pour."

Clary was shaking with anger. "You killed Jace, didn't you?" Her voice quivered, unstable and untame.

Valentine finally saw the knife in hand. He jumped back in surprise but not worry. Then, a laugh escaped his thin molesting lips. "Who?"

Clary screamed. "The boy with gold eyes! The ones you covered with black! You shoved him out the window! I saw him die. I saw him fall. You killed him." She was screaming now. Valentine would have noticed if he had been less shocked. She was waking the whole neighborhood. The door squeaked behind her, but she didn't stop. "You wanted to touch that boy, just like you touch me." Sirens blared in the streets below. The world was turning on its axis, and the powerful buildings were finally crumbling down. "But he wouldn't let you. He. Wouldn't. Let. You."

She waved the knife in front of him, and he flinched. "Watch it, Clary. If you so much as scratch me, you'll have worse things to think about than some modest sex."

Hot wet tears ran down her face. She didn't know what that word meant, but she could hear the defending tone in his voice. "Shut up! You killed my best friend!"

"So what? Are you going to stab me? Is that it?" Valentine stood to full height and laughed in her face. "Try it. I fucking-,"

Clary lunged forward and drove the knife deep into his gut. Valentine's hand gripped her by the arms, but it was too late. A malicious, bloodthirsty smile grew on her face. All those nights of fear and agony and pain were released in that one thrust of a blade. Her sleepless nights and horrid dreams whenever she so much as closed her eyes…he did this. He deserved this pain. He deserved so much worse.

"Clary, watch out!" Jace shouted. Clary whipped around. There were more than just Jace there. Clary's mother stood at the door with one black eyes and a horrified expression. Behind her, two cops were running towards them.

It was too late.

Valentine grabbed the knife out of his stomach, wrapped Clary in a chokehold, and pressed the blade to her throat. He was desperate. The two cops had black things pointed at them. Breathing suddenly became a harder task. Clary looked around, unsure what would happen next.

"Put the knife down and step away from the girl."

"What? So you can shoot me? I didn't do shit!"

Jocelyn cried out, "I heard you confess it, you drunken bastard! You – our daughter! What's wrong with you?" She was sobbing. Clary wished she wouldn't cry right now.

"N-no," he wagged the blade at Jocelyn before turning it back to Clary's throat. "You're a lying bitch! I didn't touch her!"

"Jonathan? Did you touch him, too? Is that why he ran off to live with his girlfriend?" Jocelyn stepped forward. A thin trail of warmth started running down Clary's throat, but she wasn't scared. She just kept looking at Jace, wishing uncontrollably that she could be standing next to him, safe. "Did he fight back, threaten to tell? He didn't keep his mouth shut so you made him leave, right? And then you moved on to Clary."

"N-no, I didn't tell him…" he faltered and shook his head.

"Jace says hi," Clary growled into the knife. "His brother confessed, the one who petted your white hair. You're done for, dead or alive." She let loose a little, carefree giggle.

Valentine growled into her ear, "Then we're going down together."

She frowned, and suddenly she was scared – terrified of what he'd do to her. But he'd already done the worst her could do. Anything less would be more than bearable. She held her head high, stared into Jace's eyes, and stood strong. Carefully, he lifted a black canister from her back pocket.

"Shut your eyes, Clary!" Jace shouted. She did as told. The spray was cold, and she knew what was coming next. But now she wasn't scared.

"Hold my hand, Jace," Clary stretched out one hand. She couldn't see, but she felt his warmth encase her hand. She inhaled sharply and lifted her lips in a smile.

"No!" Jocelyn cried, and the sound of gunfire filled the air seconds after a cold line of metal ran across her neck. Instantly, warm liquid started pouring down her body and she fell limp to the floor. Shots filled the air, but she was on the ground, lying on her back, choking desperately for air.

"J-Jace! Jace, where are you?" Clary called out. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother crash to the ground next to hear, weeping. Then, she felt it. His hand under her neck, cradling her head.

"I'm right here, Clary. Always."

"Clary? Clary, it's going to be okay. I – I love you, you know that, right?" Jocelyn shouted like she'd suddenly become deaf. It was slowly getting harder to hear, and her vision was becoming black. Her lungs were burning, but she choked out.

"Love you, too. And Simon, Max…Jace."

. . .

Clary was standing next to Jace. They were looking down at Jocelyn as she held a pale, cold girl with bright red flaming hair. Jocelyn was crying. Clary sighed and leaned her head on Jace's shoulder. "Can we go somewhere else?"

Jace wrapped an arm around her waist. "One more thing, remember?" He smiled, so Clary smiled back. She waved goodbye and followed Jace out the door. They walked back on the streets until they found Jace's apartment. He let himself in and she followed him down a well-lit hallway. "They're probably all down at the station by now with Maxie."

"You made him so happy, Jace. Will he miss you?" Clary took hold of his hand eagerly. Jace intertwined his fingers with hers and smiled warmly at her. He kicked open a door at the end of the hall.

"Yes, but now he knows I'll always be with him. It's up to him if he can move on without me," Jace said. "He's strong. He'll be okay."

Clary sighed in relief. She looked around. The room was pristine, black and white. There was one picture on the desk. Other than that, there were no signs of anyone living here. Clary grabbed the picture and frowned. It was Jace and his blackened eyes. She blinked once, tightly, and when she reopened her eyes, the black melted away. Gasping, she turned in surprise to Jace.

"Your eyes! I can see your eyes!" Clary exclaimed, throwing her arms around Jace. He laughed warmly and beamed at her. His eyes were glowing gold. There was pain laced between every molecule in them, but the happiness shone brighter than any past he had.

"This was my room. I wanted to show you before we leave."

"Leave? Where?"

Jace ran a hand through her curls, weaving through and clearing them of any tangles. Clary smiled softly, without any care in the world. "My job here is done. So is yours. I'm ready to leave this world. You believe in heaven. And I believe in you. I'm hoping that's our final destination."

Clary smiled brightly. "Okay."

Jace took her hand and pulled her on a path to the stairwell that led to the roof. They stood under the stars together, looking both up and at the city below them. "Which way, which way…"

Clary laughed brightly. She nuzzled her head into his shoulder and wrapped his arm around her waist. "Your touch makes me happy." She didn't say whose touch was the contrast of his. There was no need. It was only happy times from here.

Jace tickled her side. "There will be more of that when we are where we should be," he snickered. "Would you be upset if I kissed you now that we are in the stars?"

Clary frowned. She looked around and realized how right her was. There were stars everywhere. No longer were they on the roof. Now, they were standing on nothing, surrounded by everything. Brilliant stars glimmered around them like the gems of her eyes.

"No. I wouldn't."

Jace lifted his lip up in a smirk. He stepped in front of her. All that she could see, suddenly, was Jace. His beauty astonished her. He was an angel, something she'd never get tired of looking at.

His hands cupped her cheek, thumb rubbing against her soft skin as he came closer. Clary's eyes flickered shut. Her heart rate picked up. Finally, a kiss all to herself.

Jace's soft lips felt hot against hers. He kissed her slowly, like they had all the time in the world. Maybe they did. She kissed him back gently, glad to be there with him.

And when Clary stepped back and opened her eyes, everything changed.

They were at peace.

* * *

 **A/N: WOW SO MANY REVIEWS! It was like I didn't know how to process them all. I loved the feedback and hope I get the same amount here too! To one question, I am sorry there's not that much clace. It's rare I feel the inspiriting to write something aside from a romance/sexual story, and this was one of the times. I hope you still enjoyed it. It's one of my few short stories I am proud of!**

 **On a side note, looks like we got a new president, USA.**

 **I hate politics so let's not.**

 **If you want more, check out my page. I slowly am building up a shit ton of stories, hehe. Now they aren't all reading-worthy, but I had to start somewhere. I really love to see a comment or favorite on one story and then the same person checking out a different story. Ahh! Also, can I give a shout out to one of the favoriters - jacefreak - bc your username? same, just same.**

 **Anyways, hope you enjoyed! Let me know your thoughts! I left it open to interpretation purposefully. It is up to you to decide what Jace was in the end. An unreliable narrator is the best narrator for a story! ;)**


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